


so dawn goes down to day

by starblessed



Category: Bandstand - Oberacker/Oberacker & Taylor
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Friendship, Gen, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 12:57:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15389256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starblessed/pseuds/starblessed
Summary: In total, Julia Trojan is introduced to Johnny Simpson five times.After the fifth time, he slides the nearest paper napkin across the table, and pulls a pen out of his back pocket. Julia watches as he painstakingly inscribes something. When he straightens up again, he appears satisfied with himself. A curious look from Julia prompts him to pass the napkin to her.Julia,it reads.Joined our band. Singer. Brown hair, blue eyes. Nice.





	so dawn goes down to day

When they meet for the second time, Johnny doesn’t remember her.

It feels like a punch to the chest, only because she isn’t expecting it. Just before Julia’s first rehearsal with the band, he comes right up to her and extends a hand. “Hey, nice to meetcha, I’m Johnny. Great to have you here.”

For a moment, she’s dumbstruck. It’s been a few days, but she remembers _every second_ of the night Donny dragged her up to sing like it happened moments ago. Could Johnny, who’d been so candid about his memory loss from the first, really have forgotten her that quickly?

She knows better than to be offended. Instead, she just shakes his hand and offers a smile. “That’s kind, thank you! I’m Julia.”

“Julia.” He nods his head fervently, repeating this twice more. It’s as if he’s trying to turn it into a song — something he’s bound to hold on to. He looks back up at her, catching her inquisitive gaze. “I gotta repeat things sometimes, ‘cause my memory’s messed up. I was in my Jeep, see, and it flipped _three times_ — three whole times, imagine that — so now my head doesn’t work the way it used to. Plus I had to have three surgeries on my back. Still hurts a lot, but ya know, three surgeries —“

“That’s a lot,” Julia agrees, voice sympathetic. Johnny nods.

“I’m alright now, though.” There is every hint of sincerity in his tone, but he gives himself away by how he rolls his shoulders when he speaks — like he’s trying to alleviate a twinge in his back. Julia understands immediately that he doesn’t want her to worry (and doesn’t want to seem like someone who needs to be _worried over)._ Her smile settles into something smaller. She nods, placing a hand on his arm, and steps towards the bandstand.

“You play drums, don’t you? Why don’t you show me a few tricks?”

Julia turns out to be really bad at playing the drums. Johnny doesn’t tease her, or make her feel bad for not understanding right away. He repeatedly walks her through a few movements that are sheer instinct to him, coaching her like a professional teacher. By the time the rest of the band finishes tuning up, Julia has almost got a rhythm down.

She grins at Johnny. He grins back. For a moment, they both revel in the victory of having made a new friend (even if they’ve met before, technically).

At the next rehearsal, Johnny doesn’t remember her.

“Hey,” he says, during a short break between songs. “You got a real great voice. I’m Johnny, it’s nice to meetcha.”

Julia smiles and shakes his hand.

In total, she is _introduced_ to Johnny Simpson five times.

It doesn’t hurt her feelings, certainly doesn’t make her angry. It’s difficult to go through the same cycle over again, but they can be nothing if not understanding. Johnny deserves that. After all, it isn’t his fault that he can’t remember; it isn’t his fault that his brain is broken in ways that can’t be repaired by a GI Bill or a VA service plan. He is the way he is.

It couldn’t be more obvious that Johnny tries. Every day, he tries his best. Remembering is a challenge, but he gets better at it the more he practices — he recalls their band name, their meeting times, even the names of the other band members. Still, it’s a long time before Julia sticks in his head.

After the fifth time, he slides the nearest paper napkin across the table, and pulls a pen out of his back pocket. Julia watches as he painstakingly inscribes something. When he straightens up again, he looks satisfied with himself. A curious look from Julia prompts him to pass the napkin to her.

 _Julia,_ it reads. _Joined our band. Singer. Brown hair, blue eyes. Nice._

The simplest note… yes somehow, it tells Johnny all he needs to know. She passes it back to him, and offers a smile. “I can give you some more trivia, if you want.”

“Nah. It’s not that. Y’know…” Johnny chuckles, tucking the napkin into the pocket of his coat, the same pocket where pills rattle — somewhere he’s sure, Julia supposes, to find it later. “I got this idea, right? I don’t always remember stuff — ‘cause my Jeep flipped _three times,_ right — so maybe if I write things down, it’ll help me. Somehow I just got the idea, I dunno.”

It was Julia. She’s the one who mentioned it to him, at their last rehearsal. Johnny seemed enthused by the suggestion at the time. It must have stuck. She’s proud of him, and a little pleased with herself to have helped her friend out in some small way.

“Only the important stuff, ya know? The things I want to remember.” Johnny glances around at the assembled Donny Nova Band, and gestures widely at them. The smile that stretches across his lips is utterly affectionate. “Like you guys. I like being able to remember you.”

Davy, leaning against the adjacent table, catches the words. He stretches over to clap Johnny on the shoulder. “Hey, don’t worry about it, kid. We gotcha.”

“Of course,” agrees Julia, squeezing Johnny’s hand tight in her own. “Where would we be without our ace drummer?”

“Missing a few beats,” Johnny answers automatically. It takes a second to process the gleam in his eyes, the tiny quirk to his lips. Julia muffles a laugh behind the rim of her water glass.

Sense of humor is another thing Johnny’s got in spades. Even if it’s a little offbeat from others, and he doesn’t understand every joke — he can be a riot when he wants to be. Sometimes he’ll lean over to Julia during rehearsal and whisper something that leaves her snorting into her hands. He’s got an eye for people’s body language, and can mimic the whole band without even trying; his Donny impression is a thing to behold.

On one occasion, just before a show at the Rio, Julia turns around only to feel Johnny tuck something behind her ear. A hand drifts to her temple only to be met by the feeling of soft petals. One of the fancy flower arrangements on a nearby table looks sparser than usual. Johnny is grinning.

“We’re not supposed to take those!” she exclaims in a delighted undertone, summoning all her effort to keep from laughing out loud.

Johnny winks at her. “Shhhh. Nobody’s gotta know.”

She performs that entire night with the flower in her ear. As soon as she gets home, she goes upstairs and presses it into one of her old notebooks. She can certainly take it out later, but that’s a memento Julia wants to save.

As Johnny hoards away memories on tiny scraps of paper, so too does Julia hoard hers. Song lyrics are scribbled down in notebooks next to funny remarks someone made in rehearsal that day. She treasures a collection of little trinkets that would be meaningless to anyone but her. A collection of bottlecaps from Davy’s beers; one of the jokers from the night Nick was determined to teach her to play poker; a photo of Wayne and his kids, some postcards Jimmy saw and thought she’d like; a set of photo booth strips (one of her and Donny, one of her and Johnny, one of the whole band crammed inside the tiny box); and a birthday card, decorated with six signatures. Most of these things would be considered junk. She feels a little silly for holding on to them. Perhaps it’s silly to notice at all. Yet Julia, floating on the glory of newly-discovered friends and rediscovered music, doesn’t care. These things represent the friends she’s made. They are crucial little parts of them that she is determined to hold on to.

Even sixty years into the future, when Julia Trojan is old and grey, she can look back on her collection and remember. _Yes, I was in the band. I had friends. I had a family. And I treasured them more than I can say._

(She does not think of the trunks in the corner of the attic, loaded with Michael’s things: shirts, toothbrushes, cologne, photo albums. All of these are carefully preserved; Julia opens this trunk once a week, at least. Her own dedicated shrine to Michael… her own way of not forgetting _him,_ either.)

Memory, Julia decides, is a fickle thing.

Maybe Johnny counts himself lucky that he can’t remember the war. He can’t remember anything that comes after, either; even the times before are blurred, filled with holes that gape like empty years, slipping through his fingers in grains of sand. Not being able to remember is no gift, but he hasn’t broken because of it.

“Evening, Johnny,” Julia says at her next rehearsal. She’s wearing a red dress, with a dried flower pinned to her breast.

Johnny looks up, and a slow smile stretches across his face. It is like the sun rising on an autumn morning, canopies of gold and bronze stretching across a white sky.

“Hey, Julia,” he says. “You still got my flower.”


End file.
